Out on the Edge
One
She honestly had no idea what she was doing. She was crazy, obviously. At least that’s what everyone was telling her. She didn’t believe it, but when everyone around you is saying the same thing, it has to be true…right? They told her that she had lost it. They told her she wasn’t the same person she used to be. They told her they didn’t understand. She didn’t understand. She didn’t feel any different. She looked in the mirror and she still looked like herself, still felt like herself. Why are they saying these terrible things?
She was standing atop the drop off where she used to come with her friends before they all left, before they all got scared. They used to come out here all the time, daring each other to see who could get the closest to the edge. It was a fifty foot drop, or so she had always heard. She would pretend to be scared and chicken out of all the dares they would present her with. She would decline and say that there was no way she was ever going near that thing. They would laugh at her and tell her she was a chicken. They would be so surprised to find out.
She would wait patiently for them to leave, then make her way over to the edge. This was her spot, her thinking spot. She came here when the world started to close in. She’d let her legs dangle off the side, dancing with death., fantasizing about what it would feel like just to scoot a few more inches closer., slipping off the edge. She would sit here for hours, just staring down into the nothingness that was below. No one ever came looking for her here because this is the last place they thought they would find her.
“I’m fine.” That was the one line she had to memorize. They only part she had in this play. They would each walk up, one by one, and ask her in their own way how she was dealing with everything. She would pause, look down and give a small smile(she liked to play the part convincingly), then repeat those two simple words. They would nod and then walk. They didn’t want to have this conversation anymore than she did.
Sometimes she genuinely believed those words, but most of the time she knew how much of a lying sack of shit she was. She wasn’t fine. She hadn’t been fine since the summer 2009. She hadn’t been fine since they tore her apart, splitting her right down the middle. She hadn’t been fine since the one person who understood had left her to fend for herself in a sea full of sharks. She hadn’t been fine for a long long time.
But she wasn’t crazy. Was she?
She was standing atop the drop off where she used to come with her friends before they all left, before they all got scared. They used to come out here all the time, daring each other to see who could get the closest to the edge. It was a fifty foot drop, or so she had always heard. She would pretend to be scared and chicken out of all the dares they would present her with. She would decline and say that there was no way she was ever going near that thing. They would laugh at her and tell her she was a chicken. They would be so surprised to find out.
She would wait patiently for them to leave, then make her way over to the edge. This was her spot, her thinking spot. She came here when the world started to close in. She’d let her legs dangle off the side, dancing with death., fantasizing about what it would feel like just to scoot a few more inches closer., slipping off the edge. She would sit here for hours, just staring down into the nothingness that was below. No one ever came looking for her here because this is the last place they thought they would find her.
“I’m fine.” That was the one line she had to memorize. They only part she had in this play. They would each walk up, one by one, and ask her in their own way how she was dealing with everything. She would pause, look down and give a small smile(she liked to play the part convincingly), then repeat those two simple words. They would nod and then walk. They didn’t want to have this conversation anymore than she did.
Sometimes she genuinely believed those words, but most of the time she knew how much of a lying sack of shit she was. She wasn’t fine. She hadn’t been fine since the summer 2009. She hadn’t been fine since they tore her apart, splitting her right down the middle. She hadn’t been fine since the one person who understood had left her to fend for herself in a sea full of sharks. She hadn’t been fine for a long long time.
But she wasn’t crazy. Was she?
♠ ♠ ♠
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